


Breakfast in Bed

by aricasuntoast



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cooking, FACE Family, Fluff, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aricasuntoast/pseuds/aricasuntoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur desperately tries to cook up a good meal for his husband Francis with the help of their kids Alfred and Matthieu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> ooh look at me trying at fruk/face family now

Francis stirred in bed, still living in his temporary dreamland. He swam naked in a sea of wine, not afraid to swallow it instead of the salty ocean water he always knew. He stretched an arm and paddled through in backstroke. _Très bien!_  A truly beautiful feeling filled his body.

 _Clang!_ His beauty sleep was rudely interrupted by a loud horrible sound of metal.

Groaning, Francis slapped his forehead in frustration and muttered, "Sacre bleu, Arthur, this was going to be a good day. I swear if you disturb my–" He rolled over and patted the space next to him and found the bed was empty, and grabbed the cold sheets, lacking the warmth of a body. "Arthur?" Even though Francis slept for quite a long time, he was always first to get up in the morning – where was he now?

His questioned was answered when he heard arguing downstairs. "Alfred! Don't slam the pan so loudly! You might wake up your papa!" He recognized the voice to be Arthur's, and it was coming from the kitchen.

_The kitchen?!_

Francis quietly crept down the stairs and hid behind a plant. Indeed, Arthur was in the kitchen, a place he was forbidden to go. He wore a frilly pink apron, a thing he was forbidden to wear. He also held a slicer in his hand, a utensil he was forbidden to use.

 _What is he doing?!_ Francis thought. _Is he_ trying _to get himself killed?! Or other people killed?!_

"Sorry, Dad," Alfred said while placing rolls of dough onto the pan he had accidentally dropped on the counter a minute ago. "I'm just tired."

"Why did you wake us up so early again, Daddy?" Matthieu asked.

"Well, Matthieu," Arthur replied. "Your father always does the cooking around here. I wanted to return the favor and make him breakfast."

Alfred pouted. "And how does that involve Matthieu and I?" He slid the pan onto the racks of the oven.

"It's 'me and Matthieu', Alfred. Your English still requires tuning." Arthur said, cutting out more dough and handing a bowls of cream and raisins to Matthieu. "You know how _apparently_ I'm a bad cook. I don't see it, but apparently your father and the other countries – sometimes even you two – hate my food. So I thought, 'Hey, I can make food, as long as someone else does the finishing touches and I'll still have made it', yes?"

Matthieu let Kumajirou sample one of the pastries, who waved his paw in a so-so fashion. "Your plan is ridiculous, but it seems to be working."

Francis watched in astonishment as his family worked in harmony to help Arthur actually make something good. He saw they had a have at some of the simple delicacies from his personal cookbooks, but even the smells coming from the kitchen made his mouth water. For some reason, Arthur just screwed up everything in cuisine, even if he did everything right. But he had figured out a way to skip the step that he always butchered and let someone with actual culinary abilities take over, and _voila!_  No one was hospitalized.

Arthur stood back and admired their masterpiece. "Oh, good job, you two! You've made everything look and taste absolutely perfect. I couldn't ask for better sons." He squatted down and enforced a group hug with his tiny children. Francis teared up at the sight of this adorableness. It was romantic, in a family type of way. "If you want, you can help me carry this to Papa. I'll tell him you boys helped, because obviously no one will believe me that I made this by myself."

Francis nearly forgot he was supposed to be in hiding. He panicked as he heard them coming closer. _They're going to find me and the whole surprise will be a fail!_  He screamed in his mind. He raced up the stairs, even faster than whenever Arthur said they were home alone with no Alfred or Matthieu to bother them. Luckily, he had escaped back to his bedroom without making a single sound. He jumped onto the bed and threw the blanket over him and pretended to still be asleep.

"Oi, Francis," Arthur said, opening the door. "Wake up, sleepyhead!"

"Huh? What is it?" He asked, trying to look tired. He rubbed his totally wide awake eyes for extra effect. "What's that I smell?"

"This may be hard news to accept, especially when you've just woken up." Arthur said, pride hinting in his tone. "But I made this for you, with the help of the boys, of course."

"Yeah, Papa, we made it!" Matthieu excitedly cheered.

"Are you proud of us? You should be, especially of Daddy!" Alfred chimed, climbing on top of Francis.

"Really? That's so cute of all of you, really." Francis said. "What did you make?"

Arthur laughed nervously. "Well, I couldn't impress you with anything fancy, so I took a look at some of your old cookbooks. We made crepes, of course, croissants and croissants aux abricots. Alfred wanted to make pain au chocolat, and we also made pain aux raisins and pain suisse–"

Matthieu cheekily added, "It was a lot of pain." Francis smiled and kissed him on the head while rubbing Alfred's back in comfort.

"And we made brioche, palmier, and choquettes." Arthur finished. "Try them, Francis, please. I want to know if I did good."

"Alright, Arthur, but all of you should eat some too. What better way to find out if you did well than seeing it for yourself?" Francis said. "And plus, I'll feel like a glutton if I eat all of this alone."

The four sat on Arthur's and Francis' bed, snacking on the pastries. They made sounds of enjoyment and nodded in approval. This couldn't have been Arthur's food, but it was. Maybe it was because the recipes were French and not English. But who knows? It was good and that was all.

Francis found himself licking the crumbs off the platter. Alfred and Matthieu had fallen asleep in the adults' laps, finally able to sleep again after their efforts to help their father bake. Arthur smiled to himself, feeling really good that he had provided good food for his family.

"Thank you for this, Arthur. I really appreciate it." Francis said, and kissed Arthur.

"Eww," Alfred mumbled. The parents laughed and kissed him and Matthieu on the cheeks, making them squirm away and try to rub their disgusting displays of affection of their skin.

It truly was going to be a good day.

Arthur sighed happily and laid down on their bed, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "Do you mind doing the cooking for the rest of the week?" He asked. "I'm really tired from our little gift to you, and I feel like I won't be able to do something like this again in centuries."


End file.
